Meeting of the Commerans and the Conclave of the Gods
Over the desolate shores of Remora, several small kayaks approach. A man and a woman wearing broad hats step out. "Are we back at Isca?" she asks him. Their three children climb out of their kayaks, their hats lost at sea. Uncertainly, they all head inland. After a few minute's walk, they reach the first of the buildings. The man stops in his tracks and vomits. "Kids, stay where you are." The smell of dead god has hit his nostrils. Rotten stick in hand, he peeks in the run-down house. The body has long gone, but the pus is everywhere. He vomits again. He returns to his family and whispers in his wifes ear, "We're on Remora. This is where the gods went to die." They are practically sprinting back to the shore when they bump into two surprised looking gods. Pung and Dunlap reel back in surprise. Neither of them had seen humans and quite some time. "I, uh..." Pung begins, but stops when he notices the frightened stare in the man's eyes. "Humans?" the husband asks, his stare darting back and forth between the slim man in front of him and the much older, more haggard looking man who stood, almost frightened, behind him. "Uhh..." "Gods, then?" one of the children asks, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Is your friend a god?" another child asks. "He looks sick." "He's uh, he's fine." Pung stares for a moment. "Can... um... you and your family are welcome to warm yourselves at our lodge." "You fucking..." Dunlap begins, just loud enough for all the parties involved in the conversation to hear. "What?!" Pung asks, stepping backward in a fluid motion to lean in and talk to his friend. "Don't invite them here," Dunlap says, wobbling a bit on his stick as he leans in. "If the government finds out there's only five of us left--" Dunlap doesn't have to finish his sentence. "They're going to take back the island." Pung says, his eyes widening. "You know humans. They'll move right back in, put us all on a rowboat, and shove us off to sea." Pung turns around to talk to the humans again, only to see that they were gone, their footprints leading through the snow over a hill, back towards the bay where they landed. Aftel Sitrak's mast grows on the horizon. It's been seen here before, but only in passing. This time, it stops on Remora's shores. A Commeran man in fine clothes steps out with a crew and advisors behind him. He follows his bodyguards into the Remoran jungle, clearing a path and calling to the gods. Pung, Samin, Rega, and even Dunlap have spent the day going to all the houses of the dead gods that littered the shorelines and lighting fires in as many of the fireplaces as the could, so that there would appear to be inhabitants still living in them. This was quite a task--the lodge, as well as their own wood stockpiles, were further inland. When the ship finally pulls into the cove, the humans aboard disembark and proceed to the house right next to the dock, which glows with a welcome light from the windows. A young man with snowy blonde hair greets them and invites them inside, explaining that he is Samin, the God of False Hope. The humans and the sole god make pleasantries for a little while. Aftel can't help but notice that, for a house that their host claims to have been living in for a year, the mantelpiece above the hearth is dusty while the candles and sentimental items resting on it are incredibly clean. The whole house, really, was rather sparsely decorated. There is a knock at the door. Pung walks in, greeting Samin and feigning surprise at the sight of the humans in the parlor. "Afternoon, Samin. I just dropped by on my way to visit my many, many neighbors." "I sympathize," Samin says. "For me, I find there isn't enough time in the day to socialize with all the gods on the beach, not to mention the ones that live further out, in the woods." There is an awkward moment of silence. One of the sailors coughs. "I don't suppose you've come to offer any prayers or anything like that," Pung asks nonchalantly, shuffling his feet. The captain chuckles. "No, not anything like that. We're more just checking up on you to see how you all have been doing." >Aftel Sitrak chuckles >Aftel Sitrak is sitting on the shore gently bobbing up and down in the water Note: Aftel Sitrak means "The Go-Finder Boat", or "The SS Explorer" The Mayor shakes his head solemnly. "Sorry, we only pray to the new pantheon now. We're here to check up on you gods. How many of you still live here?" "Five--" "Hundred, hereabouts," Pung says, laughing boisterously and interrupting Samin. "Five hundred, maybe, yeah," the God of False Hope says. "Maybe even more on the other side of the island. " The mayor's advisors look solemnly at each other again. The mayor, however, puts on a confused look. "We were, for some reason, told that only five of you remained. We of course, had to come over right away and help you. But, I suppose the word of a spooked kayaker isn't always reliable." "No, there are several hundred of us, remaining from the initial relocation, spread out over the entirety of the island," Samin says, jumping on board Pung's lie casually. Maybe it was because Samin wanted at that moment to believe his own falsehood--to truly have five hundred of his kind left--that the humans in the room all seemed to believe the lie without question. "Then again," Pung says, leaning against the door frame, "There are so many gods competing for resources. A lot of us have had to go hungry for such a long time." The look in the god's eyes was pitiable. The Mayor and his men, despite their businesslike demeanor, are noticeably moved. "Well, here's what I can give you. I have the public support to bring exactly five of you back to Commera. You'll get your own tract of land in southern Brawa, near my own Darova location of the God Hotel, you'll get free housing, free food, and most of all," The Mayor smiles warmly at them, "you'll get publicity and recognition." "You can decide among yourselves who gets to come live in Commera. You could send the weakest of the gods, or you could send yourselves and one friend." Pung motions to Samin. "A moment, Lord Mayor. My fellow neighbor and I wish to discuss this proposal of yours in private." "Of course." Pung grabs Samin by his sleeve and pulls him into the first-floor bedroom, closing the door behind him. "What do you think?" the God of Dance asks. "He invited five of us, and we only have four on the island, Pung. It'd never work." "What if we asked if only four of us could go?" "Right after we bluffed that we had five hundred--" "You're right," Pung says, "you're right, it'd look way too suspicious." "And what about the new pantheon? Have you thought about how they might feel about five upstarts on their turf?" Pung shivered. A few things could make a god feel dread, and one of these things was an even more powerful god. "We can't accept," Samin continues. "Besides, we'd never get Dunlap to go with us--he hates humans." Pung and Samin leave the bedroom and tell the assembled humans that, while they themselves are perfectly fine with humans, there is still a lot of resentment towards Commerans on the island, and the gods would not approve of this measure. "Perhaps this sort of living arrangement can be reached, in time," Samin says, "but humanity must first make a few outreach efforts and try to win back popular opinion on Remora." "Sizeable aid packages," Pung says, listing examples. "Food, spare clothes, cut timber, dental supplies. You know, the essentials." "And maybe a swan boat," Samin interjects. "We don't need too many, but a few would be nice." "Ah, of course. 'Kɑd hɪskɑ', as my grandmother used to say. avoids Death'. We could send you some humanitarian aid, if that's what you feel you need most. All we need is something to show the folks back home – to show them where their money is going. Just so they know I'm not embezzling it or something." He chuckles at his own joke. A deal is struck. In exchange for the aid, the gods have agreed to welcome the occasional lone diplomatic crew and journalists, as well as offer them temporary lodgings on the south coast of the island, where their presence won't "disturb all the other gods." In addition, the gods will be required to pose for some drawings that will run in the special charity issue of the Medium next month. Category:Nationbuilder VII Trade Meetings